


Escape From Crete

by hardboiledbaby



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't so bad. A guy could get used to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape From Crete

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine, no money, 'nuff said.
> 
> Missing scene from "The Fix"

_This isn't so bad._

He was flying, like a bird.

_Not bad at all. In fact, it feels pretty good._

No, he _was_ a bird, soaring high in the ether, with nothing weighing him down or holding him back. Nothing even touching him, except the sunshine on his back and the air under his wings.

_A guy could get used to this._

A part of him suspected he wasn't supposed to get used to it, that he shouldn't enjoy how it felt, but he couldn't remember why.

_I didn't know... the rush... free, so free._

The swirling breeze caught him by surprise, and he laughed as it rolled him sideways into its current. He surrendered to its pull and rode the updraft forever, in a dizzying spiral of lambent blue. Then he swooped down, savoring the sweet exhilaration thrumming through his body. Soft wispy clouds parted to reveal the earth below, rising up to meet him. He didn't want to land yet, though, to be grounded and tethered. So, he banked sharply and headed out, out to... somewhere. He wasn't quite sure where, exactly.

_I can let go, be someplace else. Anywhere, far away._

Wherever it was he was going to, it had to be a place where who he was wasn't hopelessly tangled up with what he did. Where the evils of the world weren't clawing at his soul and the pain and problems of nameless, faceless people didn't matter anymore. Where nothing mattered anymore.

_Except, maybe..._

A vague image floated in and out of his mind; persistent, but as elusive and empyreal as morning mist on the ocean. It seduced him with wordless whispers, held him in thrall even as it held him at bay. With a longing he didn't fully understand, he paused in mid-flight to reach for it before it slipped away.

In a flash of blinding clarity that pierced his hazy, blurry thoughts, a face snapped into focus, breathtaking and heartbreaking, and he could have cried from the joy and sorrow of it.

_Starsky._

His best friend. Their partnership was the single most important thing in his life, in both their lives. That he could have forgotten it—forgotten his _partner_—even for a second, filled him with shame. He wrapped himself up in the Starsky-image, seeking the refuge he could always find in his friend's presence.

_I'm sorry, babe._

The solace offered by the image was a feeble balm, merely a pale imitation of the real thing, but it was all he had and he couldn't deny himself the small measure of comfort it offered. He drank it in greedily, and was glad for it, but it brought with it a taint, a bitter truth he had to accept: He couldn't just let go. He couldn't simply fly away. He needed to hold on, somehow, until Starsky could find him. He had to.

Because Starsky mattered. So much.

So, he fell. He fell from heaven as Icarus must have fallen, swift and hard, punished for daring to fly too close to the sun. The exhilaration was gone, replaced by wretched pain and a terrible, terrible yearning. Heavy in his body, he struggled weakly against his earthly bonds, but it was no use. Exhausted beyond tears, he closed his eyes and burrowed himself once more in the memory of Starsky. He clung desperately to his vision, even as he heard the footsteps of the ones that would snatch it away.

_Help me, partner._

Then rough hands were grabbing, hurting him. His cuff was pushed up again, and he felt the familiar tightening on his arm.

_Oh god, Starsk. Please hurry._


End file.
